Summer Storms
by Aqua Lion
Summary: Eight months after one night of chaos, Velma decides it's time for a reunion. Joe's game... he thinks. But going on vacation with Mystery Inc is always tempting fate, no matter how many blue puppies are along for the ride.
1. Out of the Blue

**Summer Storms**  
>Chapter 1: Out of the Blue<p>

_Sequel to Winter Shadows. Also going to be quite a lot less structured than Winter Shadows. But that's what happens when you've got twice the characters to deal with..._

* * *

><p>It was one of those days. The type of day where summer was half over and rather than glorying in the cloudless skies and beautiful sunlight, most sane people would be sick of sunshine and hiding inside from the heat wave.<p>

Most people. Sane people. But Miranda Wright was not 'most people', and if she was not 'sane people' either, well, she blamed her name for that one. Her police officer parents weren't as funny as they thought they were.

In any case, she was headed outside because Magenta was napping. Which actually meant that Magenta, having been given her snack and her naptime story, was just waiting for Miranda to leave before she jumped up and finger painted all through the next half hour. Happened every afternoon.

_So I'm enabler. So what?_

Starting on her daily walk of enabling-ness, Miranda noted a suspicious lack of activity at the house nextdoor. Steve's house. Maybe not so much that anymore—it had been nearly a year since Steve went off to college, after all. But she still thought of it as Steve's house. Old habits died hard, and besides, she missed him.

Whatever she wanted to call the house though, something was off... this was _not_ Blue's naptime, and this kind of quiet could mean only one of two things. Either alien abduction, or hilarity was getting ready to ensue. And Miranda was pretty sure the type of aliens who occasionally popped up in the neighborhood didn't do any abducting.

So, hilarity.

_Well... I _do_ have half an hour to waste... _

The last time she'd spontaneously dropped in on this house, she'd ended up in a zebra costume reading a preschool adaptation of Shakespeare. She _really_ ought to know better than this. But... resigning herself to the fact that curiosity would be the death of her someday, Miranda headed up the path and rang the doorbell.

The door swung open and a green-clad figure sprang out, brandishing an empty paper towel roll and glaring somewhere at the vicinity of her knees. "Yarrr! Ye'll never find me treasure without—hey, wait a minute..." Joe took a step back, dropped his arms to his sides, and gave her a plaintive look. "You're not Captain Bluebeard."

_Oh for_... Miranda couldn't help it, she burst into giggles. "No, no, I'm not." She noted that Baby Bird was perched on Joe's shoulder looking slightly confused at the situation, but opted not to comment on that. "Are you Captain Joebeard?"

"That's Captain Squareshirt to you... er... to ye, _landlubber_," he retorted, crossing his arms and attempting to look much more serious than the situation warranted. "So, uh... what's up?"

Before she could answer, Baby Bird seemed to come to a conclusion, and cheerfully waved a wing at her. "Tweet! Polly would like a cracker, please!"

_...Must not facepalm. Must not facepalm._ She did it anyway, then shook her head and gave Joe a playful scowl. "You are _corrupting_ our youth."

"I try," he agreed, pulling a plastic bag of graham crackers from his pocket and handing one to the little bird on his shoulder. "And I've really got to set this ambush back up before Blue gets here. D'you want to come in? Pretty sure we could track down another sword—" he waved the cardboard tube around for effect— "and an eyepatch or something for you..."

_Oh no you don't_. "Thanks, but I'd better be getting home, Magenta's probably almost done with her nap."

"Excuses, excuses. Your loss!" Joe saluted her with his 'sword' and shrugged. "See you later, then."

"Happy swashbuckling," Miranda returned, drawing a chuckle.

"Joe, what does 'corrupting our youth' mean?" she heard Baby Bird ask as she started to walk away.

He was quiet for a moment before fielding the question. "It means Magenta's gonna be over to play pirates with us when she finishes her nap."

"I heard that!" Miranda yelled over her shoulder. And with that, she headed home to prove him right.

* * *

><p>"You know? That was like, Bigfoot number twenty-eight in our ghost-busting career. I think we should get a free soda or something at thirty."<p>

"Reah, reah! Roda!"

Velma glanced over the front seats and favored Shaggy and Scooby with a smirk. "You guys are really going to settle for just a soda?"

"Well, every soda needs free refills. And like, a sandwich platter or six to go with it."

Nodding her satisfaction—she'd been worried for a moment there—the designated smart one of Mystery Incorporated returned her gaze to the road. Not that there was much to see on the road other than the traffic jam they were currently stuck in, but _someone_ had to watch it. Fred wasn't. He was in a battle with MapQuest... a losing battle.

"Hey, this route shaves a whole thirteen minutes off our travel time!"

"Um, Fred? That route takes us through Lake Ontario." Daphne snatched his phone away and secured it in her purse. "I'm pretty sure we'll be okay without any underwater shortcuts."

Whether or not Fred found the idea of not drowning convincing, the idea of not messing up the Mystery Machine's new wax job seemed to suffice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Velma leaned back and stared at the impenetrable wall of taillights ahead of them. She was a little conflicted about the whole thing. It was time for the gang's traditional July vacation; an attempt to cure a bit of the midsummer malaise. The results of these trips had been varied. But they did it because... well, because it was what they _did_. If that excuse was always good enough for unmasking Old Man Withers, it ought to be good enough for taking a break.

In this case, Daphne's parents had a timeshare in Maine that they weren't using, and the gang hadn't been anywhere near New England in ages. And that was why Velma was conflicted. In between Coolsville and Maine, there was somewhere...

Someone...

She had been mentally debating the matter since their last case was solved and now, an hour outside of Coolsville with the next leg of their trip already plotted, was probably the time to bring it up. If she wanted to. Did she want to? Fair question. Not difficult, but fair. Of course she _wanted_ to.

Though in eight months they had not spoken once...

_You'll never find out if you don't ask._ "So guys? I have a question."

"Like, I'm pretty sure you answer all the questions around here, Velma," Shaggy observed from the back.

She laughed. "Not that kind of question, silly. It's just, I've got a friend who lives right along the route we're taking... do you think maybe he and his puppy could come along with us?"

Fred and Daphne both shot her startled looks, and she could practically feel Shaggy's identical stare from behind her. Scooby, though, poked his muzzle of the seat and licked her face. "Roe and Rue?"

"Exactly."

"Reah! Reah!" The van rocked slightly, and she could envision Scooby leaping about excitedly in the back without even having to look. "Rinvite rhem!"

Fred recovered first, and shrugged. "I don't see why not. There'll be plenty of room at the resort. And I mean, especially with an endorsement like that—" He pointed over his shoulder. "Scooby, stop rocking the boat!"

The big dog halted. "Roat? Rhere?"

"Like, it's just an expression, Scoob," Shaggy intervened, maybe noticing Fred's bewildered look. "Sit down, okay? I've got some eggplant burgers stashed."

"Roh roy!" A slurp of anticipation, and the shaking stopped for good.

Velma pulled out her own phone and started tracking down the number, but was very much distracted by the look Daphne kept giving her. A highly amused look. "Why are you staring at me like that, Daph?"

Her friend arched an eyebrow. "A friend that's a _he_, huh?"

By way of response, Velma pointed to Fred, who was fiddling with the GPS and paying no attention—thankfully. Then just to drive the point home, she gestured in Shaggy's direction as well... which promptly backfired as she realized maybe, just maybe, she was protesting a little too much. Daphne's knowing smirk confirmed it.

"You hush."

"I barely said a word." Daphne grinned and shifted to face her, as much as was possible while strapped down by a seat belt. "So what's he like?"

_What's he like_... several dozen adjectives supplied themselves and Velma tossed them all aside quickly. _What a question._ "He's..." What did you say about someone who jumped into pictures and talked to tables? "Unusual."

"That's not much to go by."

Velma offered an enigmatic smile, then returned her attention to the phone. "You'll understand."

* * *

><p>It had been a long, difficult trek, full of digging, riddles, ambushes, and surprise visits from the neighbors... but Captain Bluebeard had finally gotten her paws on the day's mythical treasure. Aided, of course, by First Mate Magenta, who'd come rushing over covered in finger paint.<p>

Joe had his doubts about Miranda's definition of 'nap', but who was he to judge?

He was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the puppies and Baby Bird attacking the treasure in question—a huge, treasure-chest-shaped ice cream cake. Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper had really outdone themselves. Slippery, Shovel, and Pail had already eaten their fill and were running—or sliding—circles around the kitchen, yelling 'shiver me timbers' at each other like they actually knew what it meant.

...What _did_ that mean, anyway?

Watching them with some consternation, Joe prepared for what would surely come next. He could definitely foresee that sometime within the week, he'd have to explain to Slippery that not _every_ ship had a plank.

He might have gone ahead and mentioned it, but the phone ringing in the next room distracted him. "I'll be right back. Save me some cake, okay?"

Baby Bird lifted his beak from a lump of ice cream. " Better hurry. Tweet!"

"Row!" Magenta agreed, though Blue hopped out of her chair. _Fair enough_. Better than even chance the phone was for her, anyway. To be honest, Joe had no idea who it might be. His parents called once a month, on the fifth of the month, like clockwork. Didn't apply here. Maybe Steve, though he preferred letters. Otherwise... yeah. Probably for Blue.

He flopped down in the Thinking Chair and took the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi Joe! It's Velma."

Some combination of exquisite self-control and shock-induced immobility prevented Joe from dropping the phone. That would've taken some explaining to both Velma and Side Table. "V... y... hey! What's up?" _Oh yeah. That's composure. I am _all about _composure_. "It's been awhile." Understatement of the year, possibly.

"Sorry, I... uh..." She sounded sheepish. "Just kept getting distracted..."

"Yeah. Me too." They hadn't really promised to keep in touch. They'd only promised to try. And no matter how much they'd been forced to trust each other while in mortal peril, Joe had certainly not shaken his lack of faith of all things—all people—on the outside. He hadn't expected to hear from her at all.

So it had been what, eight months? So what? Time was just time.

Blue jumped up on the arm of the Thinking Chair. "Bow bow bow?"

"It's Velma."

"Bow..." She cocked her head for a moment. Eight months _was_ a long time for a puppy. But then her ears perked up with recognition. "Bow! Bowbow, bowbow!" She stuck one ear out to the receiver to listen in.

"Blue says hi," Joe reported, glad for the distraction.

Velma giggled. "So I hear. Hi, Blue! How're you doing?"

"Bow! Bow bowbow bow?"

"Doing well, thanks... um, give me a second..." A pause; there were muffled voices in the background, and he could make out her saying something about _let him think he has a high score if he wants to_. Then, "Sorry about that... anyway, the gang's going to be passing through in a couple of days, we're heading up to spend the week in Maine. Just for fun. Do you two want to come along?"

_Oh wow_. Joe's eyes widened and he exchanged glances with Blue. _Didn't see that coming. _It seemed a little abrupt, but he was the last person in _any_ world to make a comment on that. "What do you think?" he asked softly.

"Bow bow bow? Bow bow bowbow?" _A whole week? Is that okay?_ The sheer scale of the proposed vacation seemed to have shocked her, but her tail was wagging furiously. No doubt she thought it sounded wonderful. He thought it sounded fantastic... with minor reservations, and not the hotel kind.

Very minor. So minor he wasn't about to commit just yet.

"Good question." He was really directing it at both of them. "Uh... I mean, it sounds great, but we'd have to check and see if we can get away." That excuse sounded ludicrous to his own ears, but Blue barked in agreement, so maybe it was sufficient after all.

Velma seemed to think so. "Yeah, of course. If not maybe we can at least meet up for a little bit while we're in the area?"

"Definitely," he agreed. Perhaps a little too quickly.

"Bowbowbow! Bow bow bow bow Bowbow?"

Joe chuckled. "Blue wants to talk to Scooby." He silently thanked the puppy for that, because he was reeling and entirely out of things to say. Not because he didn't _want_ to talk. But he couldn't quite grasp what he wanted to say, and even if he could catch the sentiment he wasn't sure he had the words.

That reaction was a bit unexpected. And that bothered him, and _that_ was just another excellent reason to remove himself from this conversation for the moment.

Shuffling on the other side of the phone. "Scooby, Blue wants to talk to you."

"Rue? Rall right!"

Handing the receiver off to Blue, Joe retreated and hunted down a calendar. First things first, it was best to make sure they really _were_ going to be available for the week in question. It looked clear. And that... well...

That might be a little distressing, actually.

* * *

><p>Evening found him sprawled out in the tire swing in the side yard, where he went fairly often to think. Well, the Thinking Chair was for thinking, but sometimes that just wasn't practical. Side Table was trying to sleep, after all. Besides, he preferred to be outside when he was thinking about more serious things. The fresh air helped clear his mind. Or redirect it.<p>

Right now it smelled like rain, a cool breeze whistling through the neighborhood. So he watched the ants crawling over the ground, probably preparing for the coming storm. And when that failed to keep his attention he watched the rippling patterns in the grass as the wind danced through it. And when that became insufficient, he turned his gaze to the sky and tried to pick out constellations, then simply watched the clouds slowly rolling in.

Eventually he ran out of distractions and thought about the invitation.

_Maine. Why not?_

Well, Maine was pretty decisively on the outside. There might be a Maine in the magical world too, he wasn't too sure how far it extended, but that wasn't the Maine in question, in any case. Joe had no love for the outside (to put it mildly), and certainly spending a week out there as a _vacation_, rather than some form of torture, was almost unthinkable.

But this was a little different than that disaster otherwise known as public schooling. This would be with friends. Two friends, at least. He liked Velma and Scooby a lot, so surely by extension the rest of their gang couldn't be all bad. Right? Right. Even if they were perfect strangers. Because he dealt with human strangers oh so very well... okay, so this really was asking for trouble no matter how not-bad they were.

Velma couldn't be the only human with redeeming qualities, he knew that much. It just always took him some time to convince himself of that fact. It had even been the same when he'd moved in _here_ and had to start dealing with the other humans in the neighborhood.

That thought drew his gaze to Miranda's house for a moment, and he smirked. "Corrupting our youth, huh?" With a little effort, he could've pretended to be offended by that. A year ago he really would have been.

And that raised another entirely valid point. He had a responsibility here, a responsibility his brother had left him... despite having no real indication Joe deserved that sort of trust. Regardless of how certain neighbors might joke about it, he took his duties very seriously. Could he just abandon that for a whole week? Really?

_Probably not a good idea._

No, of course not. Impossible. He simply _couldn't_ leave for that long. Believing that made it so much easier than if he had to really sort out how he felt about—

"Joe, is something the matter?"

The familiar French accent, coming from behind him where he'd been _quite_ certain nobody was standing, startled him enough that he fell out of the swing. "Ow! Oof... uh, hi Mr. Salt. No, I'm fine." He grimaced and dragged himself into a more or less upright position. "Mostly."

"Sorry," the salt shaker apologized. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Just..." Mr. Salt was giving him a warm, but stern, look. A _you're-not-fooling-anyone_ look. "Blue already told you, didn't she?"

"But of course!" he nodded cheerfully. "You are going, yes?"

"No."

"What? Don't be silly!" Mr. Salt hopped up on the swing Joe had involuntarily vacated, peering at him with some concern. "You want to go, yes? If you didn't want to go, you would have said no right off, not come out here to think about it."

_Do we have to bring logic into this?_ Joe sighed and gave the shaker a defeated look. "I can't just pack up and leave for a week."

"Why not? We can take care of things here. You go have fun."

Oh. Well, he supposed Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper _had_ been in charge here well before he, or even his brother, had been involved in things. But still... "Blue's invited too," he offered weakly. If they'd gotten by without him or Steve at one time, that was one thing. He wasn't sure about how anyone here would get by without Blue anymore.

It didn't work, naturally. "Of course, of course. She thinks it's a wonderful idea. You know, she says you two never spent much time together on the outside."

True enough. More true than Mr. Salt probably knew. Still...

"Are you trying to chase me off?" He regretted the reflex immediately, though he was pretty sure the question was valid. Why was it really such a big deal if he stayed? Just because he really wanted to accept the invitation... or at least, a part of him did... a part that was warring desperately with the part that said nothing on the outside ever went well. In this world, the rule was that you could do anything you wanted to do. Out there, well, that was a whole other thing entirely.

But that couldn't hold out. The least he could do was give it a chance. If only giving it a chance weren't so... _terrifying_.

Mr. Salt was chuckling. "Chase you off? Hardly. Joe," a vaguely stern look crossed his face again, "you're our friend, you're not a prisoner, yes? If you want to go then don't be afraid to go."

"That is _not_ why I'm afraid to go," Joe retorted, then winced as he realized he'd actually said that out loud. "I, uh, I mean..."

"Ahhh..." Mr. Salt reached forward and patted his shoulder. "I see."

"You do?"

"Well, you don't think Steve has never told us anything about the outside, do you?" Joe's expression must have darkened because the shaker added, "I think you are braver than that, Joe. Blue will be with you, yes? And your friend who invited you? You will not be alone this time. It _can_ be fun." He raised an eyebrow. "Besides, you would not let one of the kids just skip something like this. You'd talk them into it. I can hardly do any different for you, no?"

"But..." _But what, exactly?_ Somehow those arguments were a lot more difficult to refute when someone else was making them. "I just..."

"Joe." Mr. Salt's voice was gentle. "We will still be here. Nothing will have changed when you get back... we'll be waiting," he winked, "to hear all about it."

It was still difficult to argue, especially when he wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. Maybe he _should_ just go. Nothing would go wrong. He could try to believe that. And even if it did go badly, at least he would have Blue. As long as Blue was there it had to be okay, didn't it?

_You know? I sound like Steve. _

To his own great surprise, the thought didn't bother him.

_All right then. Let's do this_. "I guess I'd better get packing, then. Thanks, Mr. Salt." He grinned and pulled himself to his feet, heading for the house.

One last call from behind him. "Oh, Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Is she pretty?"

Joe stared at the shaker for what felt like weeks on end, entirely unwilling to believe what he'd just heard. After a moment it occurred to him that it had been a question. Questions generally had answers. This question probably had an answer. He probably ought to figure out what it was. "Sh.. uh... um..." No, it wasn't that difficult, once he got over the shock. And there was nothing to be done for it, really. "Very."

Mr. Salt gave him a thumbs-up, and Joe retreated as fast as he could. Every once in awhile... he got the feeling everyone here knew him better than he knew himself.


	2. Out of the Ordinary

**Summer Storms**  
>Chapter 2: Out of the Ordinary<p>

* * *

><p>It occurred to Velma after ten minutes of picking her way through the city streets that she ought to have coaxed Scooby into joining her. Not because he knew his way around any better than she did. Just because, well... he'd <em>been there<em>. And while technically she and Joe were meeting in the park, she was early, because she had a slight detour to make first. One that Scooby might have found helpful—or might have run away at the thought of.

A pilgrimage, of sorts.

She finally found the park, and was a little surprised at how familiar the surroundings seemed. The visibility hadn't been so great last time she was here, after all. Today though, it was a beautiful summer afternoon and the park was crowded. Noisy, also. That part didn't matter so much, but she skirted the area anyway. Out of the corner of her eye she noted a gas station, the very same one she'd once been admonished not to blow up.

_Still not sure how I got such a reputation_._ We'll see about _that _this time around._

The alley she was looking for turned out to be in between a video store and a pizza place. That made her just as glad Scooby hadn't come; he'd see the word _pizza_ and that would be the end of it. But as she approached she realized she wasn't alone anyway.

And she probably ought to have expected as much.

There was someone standing there already, tall and athletic, wearing a blue shirt patterned with squares. He was staring at the blank wall as if it were somehow fascinating, and Velma smiled. It _was_ fascinating. Eight months ago that wall hadn't been so blank. Not quite. There had been one poster, reduced to a charred wreck.

Now there was no sign. No sign but the memories, and the one other person—human person—who remembered.

"You had to see too, huh?"

The young man in the alley jumped, turned to her, and let a sheepish grin cross his face. "Yeah."

"Can't blame you." Velma took a few more steps forward but wasn't quite sure what to do next, and they just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Joe looked surprised. Maybe it was that she was early. But somehow she got the feeling it was less that, and more that he hadn't expected her to show up at all.

Maybe.

He spoke into the odd silence first. "So uh... how've you been? How's the monster-hunting going?"

"About the usual. A little disappointing lately, though. Do you realize how hard it is to take myself seriously while unmasking the twenty-eighth different variation of Bigfoot?" She shook her head. "Every mystery is different. The crimes are different, the clues are different. Fred even prides himself on how every one of his traps is different! You'd think the crooks could appreciate all that and be more creative, vary the routine a bit..."

Though he'd been wearing a mystified expression for the start of her rant, by the end Joe was grinning, and any tension there had been evaporated. "I can only imagine. Trapping Bigfoot, huh? Get to blow anything up while you were at it?"

Velma glared; Joe giggled. "So where's Blue?"

"At school. She'll be done in an hour or so. Didn't want to miss any more than she had to."

"She likes school that much? She's a puppy after my own heart."

That earned her a smirk as Joe leaned back against the wall. "Hey, _Blue's_ school is awesome. Not like..." And there was the first enigmatic cut-off of the day. She'd almost forgotten his tendency for that, but he covered it quickly. "Scooby didn't come with you?"

Shrug. "I left at lunchtime." No more really needed to be said.

"Aha." Another awkward pause. It looked like they had an hour to kill. "So what do you do when you're not chasing monsters? You know, for fun."

"Mysteries _are_ fun," Velma protested.

Joe gave her a doubtful look, but had the decency (or perhaps wisdom) not to question that. "Okay, but it's just, I don't think we're going to find your twenty-ninth Bigfoot out here at the park." He gestured down the alley in the general direction of the park in question. Plenty of picnics and laughter, thus probably no monsters. "So what about when you have time off?"

Of course she'd known perfectly well that was what he was really asking, but any slight—real or imagined—against the noble business of Mystery Inc. had to be at least countered. As far as actual hobbies went, she shrugged again. "You know... just hang out, read books, watch hockey... laugh at Shaggy and Scooby because trust me, they make it easy..."

He burst into giggles. "I believe you. I _definitely_ believe you. Assuming Shaggy's anything like Scooby, anyway."

"Identical, except bipedal."

"Then I believe you even more."

Velma gave him a sidelong glance. This was where she should be asking what _he_ did for fun, she was pretty certain. But she knew what that would get her—some reference to his very unusual companions in the very unusual world he seemed to live in. And that raised a whole new batch of questions which she'd been curious about from the beginning. That curiosity was quickly getting overwhelming.

And they had an hour to kill.

So what actually came out was, "Do you think I could meet your friends?"

Joe drew back slightly, looking more confused than anything. "Huh?"

"You know, like the singing table."

Confusion flickered, giving way to surprise. "Really?"

"Of course _really_," she answered, surprised herself now. What was so shocking about that question? How could anyone hear about such a world—singing tables, counting clocks, sentient shovels and pails—and not want to see it? "Is that strange?"

"Yes." He straightened, stretched, and beckoned for her to follow him. "But I think it can be arranged."

* * *

><p>It took about ten minutes to reach the library. Velma remembered the library; not because she'd seen it, but she remembered Joe asking directions the night they'd met. Using a library as a landmark had seemed like a good sign, but she wasn't actually expecting them to go <em>into<em> the library.

_Is this inside of a picture?_

_It's complicated..._

Joe led her to a door which she had completely failed to notice prior to his opening it—in fact, she'd have sworn it simply wasn't there. And while a few other people in the library passed them, nobody seemed to notice the room they ducked into. For that matter, she was pretty sure once the door was open nobody even saw _them_.

It was a typical children's room, with fluffy carpet and stuffed animals scattered between the bookshelves. Velma let a wave of nostalgia wash over her as she looked around; rooms like this were where she'd grown up, learned to love reading and learning, long before meeting the gang, still longer before a legion of masked weirdos gave her an outlet for that keen intellect she'd been developing. Lost in a fog of memories for a minute, she almost failed to notice Joe was talking to her.

"...one thing, if we're gonna do this."

She shook herself out of it. "Yeah?"

"Try to act natural, okay?" He looked mildly uncomfortable asking it, as if he were making some great imposition. "They're kids, and they can be shy. Especially Side Table. Just... you know."

As if Velma hadn't seen a thousand stranger things in her life. And she was generally pretty good with kids. "I know. No problem."

Had he pulled her in here just to get that assurance? She didn't know and didn't ask; he was looking around the room, and retrieved a yellow and blue book from a corner of the room, humming softly as he did so and placing the book on a central shelf. Velma blinked—she thought, and it surely had to be her imagination, that something had glittered in the air around them when he placed it. "Brace yourself," he advised as he moved back to the door they'd come in.

"For what?" No answer, or at least, not much of one. She thought he laughed, but wasn't quite sure as he pulled the door open.

Light washed over her and she raised her arms, blinded briefly by the luminance of a place that definitely _wasn't_ a library. Her arms went up reflexively to block the blinding assault, and it took a few long moments for her eyes to adjust enough to look around.

_What in the_...

The doorway seemed to have vanished, as if the world had invaded the room they'd just been standing in. As a world it was about what could be expected... looking around she noted that they were standing in front of a library, and there was a street with stores and houses, grass and trees and a park—all the things to be expected from a world, right? Yet it was _off_. The colors were just a little too vivid, the light a little too intense... very much like they'd jumped into a storybook, even though strictly speaking, they hadn't.

_Complicated_.

"You all right?"

Joe was looking at her, amusement and concern warring in his expression. Velma nodded, still blinking back afterimages. "Yeah, sorry. I'm fine."

"I did warn you," he pointed out with the faintest grin.

"That'll teach me," she agreed.

Starting down the street he suggested, "We may as well go ahead to the house. The neighborhood's pretty quiet until school gets out."

"Might be just as well." For all he'd warned her, for all her prior experience with such things, she had not expected so _much_. Bizarre inhabitants she'd been prepared for, but not the very fabric of the world being so different. A nice, quiet walk down the street would give her time to refocus. To that end she did her best not to notice, just yet, that all the mailboxes they were passing had faces.

Joe led her to a small house, yellow with a red roof. This house's mailbox was purple, and waved its flag cheerfully as they approached. "Hey Joe, you're back early." It sounded distinctly male and possessed, of all things, a heavy Brooklyn accent. "Is this your friend?"

"Yep," Joe confirmed. "Mailbox, meet Velma."

Mailbox. Of course the mailbox's name was Mailbox. What did that make the other twelve mailboxes they'd passed? Maybe all those mailboxes were named Mailbox too. _Just like how you run into lots of people on the outside named Bob or Ashley_.

This Mailbox, in any case, leaned forward and raised his flag in a salute. "Hiya!"

"Nice to meet you, Mailbox." Velma hesitated. What was the protocol on being introduced to a mailbox? Should she try to shake his flag? But Joe wasn't waiting around, so she gave Mailbox one last nod of acknowledgment, then followed him up the walk. "He didn't seem so young," she observed, though admittedly her exposure had been low.

"He's not. He's my age. The others... um... it's complicated, but they're different."

"You keep telling me things are complicated."

He gestured expansively. "Aren't they?"

_Oh. Well, when you put it like that_... "Touche."

The first thing she noticed when he opened the door was that the house was a lot bigger than it seemed on the outside. The second thing was a large, overstuffed red armchair placed prominently against the back wall. And the third thing was a red and orange table, with a single drawer. Arranged on the drawer were two eyes and a mouth surrounding a knob that passed for a nose, and right now those eyes were staring at her, part curious, part surprised.

_That must be Side Table_. "Hello," she offered.

Side Table gasped at being spoken to, then whirled and attempted to hide behind the chair.

Velma blinked, and gave Joe an uneasy look. "Was it something I said?"

"Nah." He moved up and knelt next to the cowering table. He murmured something she didn't catch, was quiet for a minute, then nodded and moved away.

Side Table turned around again and pitched her drawer to the side; it seemed to be the functional equivalent of cocking her head. Actually, she looked more fascinated with Velma than Velma was with her, if such a thing was possible.

"Hi," she said finally, softly, "I'm Side Table."

Velma knelt too, tired of craning her neck down. Plus it was probably polite. She wasn't sure about the proper etiquette for meeting a table, any more than she had been for Mailbox. "I'm Velma, it's nice to meet you. I hear you like to sing?"

Up until that point, Velma realized, she'd been unconsciously analyzing everything she ran into here—trying to mentally place the wires, the structure. Wondering at the artificial intelligence required and who might have put such a place together.

When Side Table _blushed_, she gave up on it. A table was blushing. And she was only willing to go so far into denial.

"Um, well, I mean, uh..." Her orange drawer had gone almost as red as the rest of her, and suddenly she burst into, "I just wanna sing! Sing sing sing!" Jumping up and spinning with a grace such a bulky piece of furniture had no right to achieve, she started dancing off into the next room, still going at full volume. "Sing about any old thing, I just wanna sing! Ba da da, siiing, woohoo..." And with that she was gone, leaving Velma staring through the doorway after her in disbelief.

Joe looked like he was desperately trying to stifle his laughter, and was having some marginal success with it. "I think that's what you call a tactical retreat," he explained between giggles. "Told you she was shy."

"What would she do if she _wasn't_ shy?"

Losing his battle for composure, Joe sank back into the chair and shook his head. Velma gave him a minute. He got a hold of himself with surprising abruptness and looked up at her, dark eyes glinting with concern. "Seen enough?"

Before she could answer, a salt shaker came hopping out of the room Side Table had vanished to and waved a spindly arm. "Ah, 'allo Joe, 'allo Joe's friend!"

If she hadn't seen enough prior to that, a French salt shaker did it. She nodded to Joe, who glanced at the shaker. "Hey, Mr. Salt. We were just about to go wait on Blue. Side Table okay?"

"But of course, she seems quite happy actually." The shaker shrugged. Velma had no idea how anything without shoulders could shrug, but he most definitely shrugged. "I think she is flattered that you talked about her singing."

Something unspoken passed between Joe and Mr. Salt—something with definite _don't say anything_ connotations that Velma decided she was better off ignoring—then Joe vaulted out of the chair. "Okay, let's go."

* * *

><p>They walked in silence until they reached the park, where Velma commandeered a picnic table and fell into a sitting position. Joe waited. He knew how this could be—this was <em>his<em> world, _his_ peers, and even he had taken some time to readjust after moving back in. Seeing it for the first time? He could only imagine, except he really couldn't. Everything here was normal to him. An odd normal, but normal nonetheless.

Best to let her speak first.

And this was Velma, and Velma didn't waste time. "How is any of this possible?"

_Oh. Well then._ "Is that all?"

That earned him a briefly unamused look, then she laughed softly and leaned back. "Yeah, I think that ought to do it."

It was a question Joe had considered at some length himself. Long ago—first when trying to explain why talking mailboxes weren't such a strange thing, in those dim days of excessive optimism when he'd assumed people were asking about that in good faith. Later it had become a matter of mere curiosity. Ultimately he'd given up because...

Because it didn't matter? _Oh boy._

Something told him Velma wouldn't reach the same conclusions he had, but he decided to try walking her through it anyway. "Okay. You're gonna have to work with me, then."

"What do you mean?"

"Why's the sky blue?"

For a minute, he was pretty certain she wasn't even going to acknowledge that, as she looked up at the sky as if checking to reassure herself that yes, it really was blue here. Then she looked back at him. "You promise this is actually relevant?"

"Promise."

"Okay." She settled back. "The sky is blue because of how the atmosphere scatters sunlight; the sunlight is made up of all colors, but the blue is scattered most efficiently."

"Why?"

For a moment she frowned, but then shrugged and forged ahead. "Rayleigh scattering. Shorter wavelengths get scattered more so they're more visible, and blue light has a shorter wavelength."

"Why?"

There was no hesitation this time. Very much as if she'd gotten caught up in answering the question and forgotten why she was answering it... which, from what he knew about her, might not be all that far off. "Because the color receptors in your eyes interpret that shorter wavelength as the color blue."

"Why?"

"Because..." A pause. She adjusted her glasses and frowned at him. "This is getting a little unreasonable, isn't it? That's just how it works."

Joe nodded and shot her a bit of a salute. And here he hadn't expected to learn anything today. "Okay, fair enough. So why are plants green?"

"Because they have chlorophyll and _oh no you don't_," she cut off, perhaps noticing the hint of a smile he hadn't been able to hide. "Chlorophyll is green, alright? It just is."

Now she had it. "And why can mailboxes talk?"

He sat back and watched as Velma's expression flickered from confusion, to surprise, to irritation, and finally settled on a sort of resignation as she realized what had just happened. "Really?"

"Really."

_"Really?"_

"Really!"

"Phenomenology?"

"...Phenomenal what?"

It hadn't actually been his intention to annoy her, and he felt a little better when she leaned forward and giggled. "Sorry. It's basically when you observe something, and you know _how_ it is, but you can't yet explain why." Her expression became a little more serious. "Seeing is believing. Completely and utterly antithetical to... you know..."

"Someone who's ripped a mask off every stock mythological character in existence?" he volunteered.

"Yes. Precisely." She was quiet for a moment. "But you're satisfied with that?"

"Honestly? Yeah." Of course he was. And of course she wasn't. "I guess I don't see much point in the _why_. It's here." He knelt and poked at a dandelion, freakishly vibrant by any outside standard. "I guess..." He'd never tried to voice this before. "I mean, look at this. It's a flower. I know how flowers work, more or less. But knowing that doesn't change anything. It's a flower. It's beautiful. I don't need to rip it up and study it." He stood and gestured expansively. "All this is beautiful."

Velma was watching him with dawning comprehension in her eyes, and a slight grin crossed her face. "Dandelions? You know they're weeds."

"I like them," he protested.

"I do too, actually." But before she could say anything else about it, he heard noise from down the street. Quite a bit of noise. Familiar noise. He grinned.

"School's out."

Velma cocked her head, leaned over to look past him, and her eyes went wide. "Oh. ...Oh wow."

Joe couldn't blame her for her surprise; it _was_ a pretty overwhelming array of technicolor animals that came bounding out of Miss Marigold's fine educational institution every day. He glanced over his shoulder and noted with some relief that Periwinkle was following Green down the street in the other direction. He wasn't sure how Velma the eternal skeptic would cope with a kitten doing fake magic tricks.

Blue, on the other hand, noticed them immediately.

"Bowbow! Bowbow!"

A moment later Velma had a puppy on her lap, licking her face enthusiastically. "Blue! Nice to see you again."

"Bow bow bow bow bow!"

While Blue and Velma got reacquainted, Joe noted some motion out of the corner of his eye; Magenta was padding up cautiously, looking thoroughly confused by the whole ordeal. "Hey, Magenta. How was school?"

"Row..."

"Bowbowbow! Bow bow Bowbow!"

Magenta responded to that summons by giving Joe an uneasy look, as if his opinion somehow any bearing on the matter. He shrugged and offered her a smile, and that seemed to be enough; she jumped up on the table and watched the proceedings. "Rowrow. ...Row row row rowrow."

Velma, who'd displayed about half fluency in Blue's barks, gave the pink dog a blank stare for a couple of seconds. "She likes your glasses," Joe translated.

"Oh..." She looked sheepish for a moment, then recovered with, "Yours are really nice too."

Magenta blushed.

* * *

><p><em>So far, so good.<em>

Velma leaned forward on the bench and shook her head. She was still reeling a little bit, though the odd colors around her were starting to seem normal. She wondered if that ought to bother her, but decided it was probably for the best.

Oh, and a red and plaid—PLAID!—bird had come by, waved cheerfully at her _while still flying_, and said hello. _Physics? Who needs physics?_

She was waiting now; Joe and Blue had gone back to their house to pick up their luggage. Of course he'd invited her to come along, but a few moments to just stop and catch her breath seemed like an excellent idea right now.

Was this world everything she'd imagined? _Heh. No_. She hadn't imagined this at all.

But it surely did explain a lot about Joe.

Movement on the horizon. He was coming back with a backpack slung over his shoulders, walking slowly, occasionally casting worried glances at the suitcase that seemed to be rolling beside him of its own volition. Which, in this world, wouldn't have been at all surprising. But on further observation, Velma could see a pair of floppy blue ears sticking out from behind the moving luggage, and chuckled.

"Blue, are you sure you don't want help with that?" Joe was asking as they got within earshot. By his tone, she was reasonably sure it wasn't the first time he'd asked it.

"Bow bow! Bow bow bow." _No thanks! I've got it_.

A dog who actually _wanted_ to help with the suitcases. Bizarre.

Joe caught Velma's eye and gave her an exasperated look, which she answered with a grin. "Looks like you're all set."

"I suppose you could call it that. Blue, are you _absolutely_—"

"Bowbowbowbow!"

Giggle. "I don't think you're going to win that argument, Joe."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

They started back up the road. Velma didn't remember any door that might lead back to the outside—in fact, she specifically remembered looking around and _not_ seeing one—but she held back from asking. Obviously Joe knew where he was going. Blue probably did too, but she seemed completely intent on keeping the suitcase rolling straight.

Much like getting in, it was probably perfectly simple if you knew what to look for. She wondered if that was really all there was to it.

As they made their way up the road, Joe stopped a couple of times, frowning for a moment before shrugging it off—whatever it was.

"Forget something?"

"No, just..." He stopped again, eyes narrowed. "One second. Think I somehow managed to fail at efficient packing," he let the backpack slide off his shoulders, "despite the fact that there's hardly anything in here... something keeps moving ar—GYAH!"

Joe recoiled as something pink sprang out of the bag, accompanied by an excessively loud ringing sound. Then a voice, very young, most likely female. "Are we there?" The pink thing turned in a circle and Velma realized it was an alarm clock—an old-fashioned one, complete with a wind-up key in back and two large silver bells. Except in this particular alarm clock, the _face_ and the _hands_ were literal. "Oh..." The clock's hands drooped with disappointment, an odd effect. "It's not time yet?"

_"Tickety!"_ Joe sounded exasperated, maybe frightened. Maybe even angry. "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to come with you," she explained, turning to face him and ringing her bells again for emphasis. "I want to see what it's like on the outside."

"You can't just stow away in my backpack!" he admonished. "Did you tell anyone else you were coming?"

"No." Velma had circled around so she could see the clock's face and hands still, and saw the entire face shift side to side. W_ell, obviously she can't just shake her head._ "But—but I left a note, so they'll find it and won't be worried."

"But you didn't..." Joe seemed to abruptly clamp down on the wild panic of his initial reaction, though it was still in his eyes. Seething. From what she knew of Joe, and from the confused look Blue was giving him, Velma was certain this wasn't typical. "Okay... look, stay here. I'll be back in a minute." He was gone before anyone could respond to that.

The clock—Tickety—shuffled her feet nervously. "I think I made him mad. I didn't need to make him mad..."

Blue gave a series of comforting barks that came much too quickly for Velma to interpret, and they were left in very awkward silence for about two minutes. Then Joe came jogging up, showing a lot less urgency than when he left.

"I talked to Mr. Salt. He says it's not a problem." Was that all? He'd freaked out about her not asking permission from a salt shaker? It didn't mesh, but... "Tickety, don't _ever_ do anything like this again. Just ask, okay?"

The clock's eyes dropped to focus on the sidewalk. "Okay." Her voice was small. "I'm sorry..."

Joe's expression softened within moments. "Oh, Tickety..." He knelt beside her and touched one of her bells gently. "I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just that, clocks out there aren't _alive_, you know? I didn't know if you'd stay... you... when we cross the boundary." His tone was affectionate now. "You scared me."

_Oh. Yeah... yeah. That'll do it_. Velma watched them, certain she'd been forgotten in the moment, but doubting it would have been any different if she hadn't been. She was suddenly beginning to understand. Maybe it _was_ all fun and games, but he took his duties here seriously. And more than that... they _were_ his friends, and he loved them dearly.

It wasn't hard to understand. She'd do the same thing if Shaggy or Scooby pulled a prank she thought might get them killed, wouldn't she?

Tickety was looking at Joe, wide-eyed. "Ohh..." She jumped up and rang her bells cheerfully. All forgotten. All forgiven. "So can I go?"

That got her a laugh. "Well, it's fine with me, but this is Velma's show, so..."

Velma decided that meant she'd better pay attention, as the little alarm clock trotted up to her and stared at the ground for a moment before looking up again. "Um, Miss Velma, can I please go on your trip with you?"

Joe's expression had gone from amused, to bemused, now he was barely keeping his composure again as he looked at Velma, who was certain the look on _her_ face must be something else. She recovered as quickly as she could because Tickety was staring at her as earnestly as any preschooler in the world. "Of course you can. But promise me you'll just call me Velma, okay?"

Tickety jumped and rang her bells again. "Okay!"

Blue and Tickety darted ahead, leaving the two humans to exchange smirks. "I want to be there when she meets Shaggy and Scooby," Velma declared in a low voice.

"I think we can arrange that... _Miss_ Velma." Joe bolted after the kids before she could respond.

* * *

><p>Tickety had never seen him angry before.<p>

Joe kept shooting guilty looks down at Tickety, half of him glad she wasn't looking at him, half of him wishing she would. He'd apologize more thoroughly later... but what else could he have done but panic? There was so much about the boundary between magic and reality that he didn't understand. He wondered if anyone truly understood it.

But at least he knew the shakers understood it _enough_. So he'd darted back to the house, not to ask permission, but just to ask. To be sure. And he'd really only been comfortable when Mrs. Pepper assured him that she'd been on the outside several times herself with no ill effects.

Finally, the numbness completely fading, he let himself chuckle. Clever, really, Tickety's hiding out in his backpack like that. He had no idea how she'd found space in there—sure, there was nothing in the bag but a duck and a notebook, but Boris was pretty big.

Leaving the magical world was not difficult, in theory. In an alley by the library, his eyes darted over the bricks, seeking... an exit sign materialized in front of them, one that hadn't been there a moment ago. It had an arrow. _Follow the arrow._ The arrow always pointed a different direction, yet following it always led to the same place.

Another alley, by another library. It wasn't like a skidoo. There was no jolt of new awareness. The colors simply shifted, light and magic vanishing around them. Tickety rang her bells, startled, and sprang up onto Joe's shoulder.

"Whoa... is _this_ the outside?"

"Bow," Blue answered, taking a break from pushing the suitcase and looking around. "Bowbow bow, bowbow bow?"_ Pretty cool, isn't it?_

"It is!"

The kids never changed. He wished he could share their optimism out here, as easily as he did in their world...

Joe stared down the street, trying to grasp for a moment that he was going to be out here for a whole week. Away from the magic—well. He looked at Blue, glanced back at Tickety. Away from _some_ of the magic.

Moving to the front of the group, Velma motioned for them to follow. "The gang ought to be waiting—well, Fred and Daphne anyway, Shaggy and Scooby are probably still eating. I think Fred said something about rearranging the van."

"Rearranging?"

"Got to make sure there's room for everyone. Without having to throw too many of Daphne's suitcases out."

"Aha." He snickered.

They'd barely gone a block when he felt shuffling on his shoulder, and glanced at the nearest window to see Tickety's reflection trying to get into his reflection's backpack again. "Um, Tickety? What're you doing?"

"It's comfortable in here," she explained. "I can still see if it's not closed all the way."

On one hand, he wasn't sure about her idea of _comfortable_. (Though Boris _was_ soft and fluffy.) On the other, it might be just as well if he weren't wandering the streets with a talking alarm clock sitting on his shoulder... he didn't argue.

Velma led them on a ten minute trek to a hotel parking lot, and at the outskirts Joe froze. It didn't take much to pick out the vehicle they were looking for. First, because there were indeed about twenty suitcases piled around the back. But more to the point, it was the first thing anyone would have seen in the lot. A full-sized van, painted in chartreuse and light blue, ornamented with several bright orange flowers.

And in case there'd been any real question, there were also orange words along the side: The Mystery Machine.

"_That's_ your van?"

"Yep."

"Excuse me. You ride around in _that_ and you think my world's strange and overly colorful?"

She burst into laughter, and Joe couldn't help laughing too. Suddenly everything about this trip felt just a little less alien...

Just a little.

He watched the two milling around the van, making and pointedly discarding his initial observations. Fred struck him as the type of person he'd spent most of school avoiding. Admittedly, he'd avoided most people, but _tall blond and handsome_ was a deadly trifecta. The usual deadliness was being undermined right now by the way that Fred was cheerfully losing a battle with a pile of luggage.

Moving in and out of the van, steadying and handing off suitcases as necessary, was a girl with red hair, purple clothes, and an air of mildly exasperated competence. Daphne, presumably. She seemed to be mostly focused on making sure Fred didn't end up with a pile of suitcases falling on his head... which seemed like a full time job.

Blue watched for a few moments as well, then nudged their own suitcase forward while Fred was calling for another. He took the handle without really looking. "Oh, thanks!"

"Bow bowbow."

Pause. Double take. While Fred was blinking, Daphne stuck her head out of the van and smiled. "Oh, you must be Blue! I'm Daphne, it's nice to meet you. Here, I'll take that." She'd never missed a beat. Good sign.

Daphne's intervention gave Fred enough time to figure out what had just happened. "And I'm Fred. Glad you could make it." He looked up, caught sight of Joe and Velma, and waved, then went right back to loading the van.

Velma crossed her arms. "Don't be fooled," she murmured, "Fred can make a trap that's complex enough to impress even me, and clever enough to catch the monster even when it doesn't work properly. Not your everyday form of genius, but a genius nonetheless."

A nod. Joe knew something about odd forms of genius; he'd grown up with Steve, hadn't he? But that was another story for another time.

Especially when footsteps came up behind them, and Blue gave a cheerful storm of barks and sprinted past Joe and Velma to tackle Scooby. "Bowbow!"

"Rue!" Scooby planted a wet lick on her cheek, then reared up and licked Joe too. "Roe! Ri've rissed rou!"

Joe chuckled, scratching the big dog's ears. "We missed you too, Scoob. How've you been?"

"Rokay! Rexcept the ronsters." He whimpered, then brightened. "Roh! Roe, rhis is Raggy!" He nodded to the human who'd come up beside him.

Shaggy was tall, rail-thin, very much lived up to his name, and had such a laid-back air about him that Joe liked him immediately. And Joe's reactions to humans didn't work that way at _all_. He took that as a good sign as they shook hands. "Like, hey man, how's it going?" His voice was high-pitched and cheerful.

"Pretty well."

"Bow!" _Great! _Blue's bark drew Shaggy's attention, and he knelt and offered her a hand. She shook it with her ear.

Daphne and Fred were approaching, which was good timing as Joe felt some wriggling in his backpack, felt a momentary pang of confused panic, then remembered his passenger. This arrangement was going to have to end—Tickety might find it comfortable, but it was going to drive _him_ crazy. Either way, best to get the introductions over with. Velma was so looking forward to it, after all. "Tickety, you listening? You might want to introduce yourself too."

"Oh, it's time?" A jolt as the clock vaulted out of his backpack and took up a perch on his shoulder again, looking around at the gathering and waving one hand cheerfully. "Hi everyone!"

The reaction from two quarters was pretty much as expected; Daphne and Fred halted and just gawked for several moments, though they both recovered reasonably quickly. Shaggy and Scooby, though...

Shaggy eyed the clock, glanced at his dog, and proceeded to look thoroughly undisturbed. "Huh. Dig that, Scoob, a talking clock... like, tick tock, tick tock, tick talk! Get it?" Scooby nodded sagely and giggled.

"I'm Tickety Tock!" Tickety corrected good-naturedly. "But everyone just calls me Tickety."

"Well like, welcome aboard, Tickety!" Shaggy winked. "I guess with you around it's always a good time, huh?"

Tickety rang her bells. "Yeah!"

_Oh no_. Joe glanced uneasily between the two of them, considered Tickety's penchant for time puns as it was, and decided this next week was going to be absolutely unbearable. And yet, it was a good kind of unbearable, and when Scooby groaned he couldn't help laughing.

As they trooped into the van he shot an apologetic glance at Velma, who looked profoundly disappointed. "Was that supposed to go differently?"

"They're terrified of ghosts, monsters, snakes, and their own shadows, but a talking clock is just _fine_..." She shook her head. "I'll never understand those two. Ever!"

Joe decided to keep his opinion to himself on that, because she probably already knew what he would say.

Some things just weren't meant to be understood.


End file.
